Something More
by Kuro The Dark Ringmaster
Summary: Arthur finds himself sitting at the UN listening to North Korea threaten to bomb the South. The entire room is swept into panic after the nuclear weapon display. He feels as though he's been forgotten as he watches the nations' panic, only for one voice to ring out. Modern US/UK AU Romance BL Rated M for future Chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first Hetalia Fanfiction. Usually I'm writing for Kuroshitsuji but, I ran across this anime and some art. After some debate I decided to write a short story for it. If you guys like it I will continue. If not, I won't. It was inspired by the song "1,000 years." I felt it fit them so I decided to write this snippet. _

_Please Review! _

_~Kuro_

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**Chapter 1: Too Fast**

The rain tapped on the glass as the meeting crawled forward. Once again North Korea was waging war against the South and the Chinese were attempting to bat them back. They couldn't afford to loose one of their largest trading partner. The UN was making less progress than usual, it was taxing to listen to the nations scream at one another and bicker relentlessly. A hand slipped into sandy blond hair as a middle aged man sighed, he was one of the oldest nations and a member of the Security Council, yet he felt so alone. His fingers slipped through his soft sandy hair as he looked over his notes. "We have the capacity to produce these weapons! No one said we couldn't launch them!" claimed the North, his accent was harsh and he stood firm. Emerald greens closed as he remembered what it had been like when there was peace after World War Two, so much death and destruction. Korea clearly didn't remember, and then again it had ripped itself in two. Once again they were attempting to show their military might, he snorted after a moment, it sounded so familiar yet distant. That desire to branch out beyond borders and conquer the world, to jump on a ship and sail as far as the wind would take him.

"Simply because you have the means to produce them, doesn't mean you should," barked Ivan. It was clear Russia felt threatened by their neighbor, North Korea was playing with fire and it frightened him. "We are as powerful as any Western Nation, why not show our might! We want the South so we can have a united Korea," stated the nation. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed. This was going nowhere, and they weren't going to stop until they were appeased. It felt like World War Two all over again, only this time Germany wasn't in economic pain and swept away with euphoria. "Launching nuclear weapons into international airspace violates all regulations on warheads. We all desire a united Korea, but launching weapons over it which could do infinitely more damage than Hiroshima and Nagasaki together," rang a young voice. There was a murmur which swept through the room, emeralds looked up to see the voice's owner. He smiled when he noticed it was none other than Alfred F. Jones, the representative of the United States of America, and seemingly the only voice of reason in the room which wasn't trembling. He stood firm and strong, "The United States is using drones, and yet you have the nerve to say you desire peace," spat the North Korean representative. Alfred looked at the man and stated plainly, "We are attempting to prevent another terrorist attack from occurring, not only on our own soil but others as well."

A smile crept across his face, "Oh and what is the likely hood that there will be another?" asked the North Korean snidely. He had thought that too after 9/11 which had carved into the US and left a scar which would never heal. He finally stood and stated, "We thought the same thing and then the Under Ground was bombed, you can not underestimate these groups. We are no longer in the time in which we have to worry about nations attacking," he stated, he could feel eyes settle on him. "Individuals and groups are causing the most issues, we must stand vigilant and prevent these incidents if any of us, is to have a country left to protect," he said firmly. The room was silent; this was the right move, even if the North Korean's didn't want to hear it. He could hear the squeak of a chair beside him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Francis standing. "I agree with Mr. Kirkland, you are comparing apples to oranges, _Monsieur_," he commented, his French accent was as thick as ever. No matter how often England and France fought, somehow Francis and Arthur managed to maintain a healthy friendship. With the exception of the occasional argument and jeer, just to keep the rivalry alive. The room broke into shouting which was a common occurrence as a number of nations began shouting about America's use of drones and the North Korean's blatant disregard for the law. "Enough!" cracked the voice of Ivan, the room fell silent. His presence was certainly more than enough to cause the other nations to fall silent. Germany was grinning from ear to ear, Gilbert clearly didn't want to hear much more of the chit chat. "Lunch, let's take lunch and reconvening in an hour," he stated with a smile, as always.

There was chatter which erupted after this statement as nations slipped away to their privet rooms and offices. Arthur sighed as he closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. This meeting was far more taxing than he had anticipated. "No I haven't had a chance to read it Japan! I heard it was wonderful though," he heard Alfred remark. He smiled warmly as he listened to his former colony. He was still a child sometimes, which made his heart go soft, it was a pleasant feeling to know that some things wouldn't change. He looked up and watched as the pair left for lunch, he felt as though he were being left behind. It hurt, the truth was the most he could do now was watch over him from afar. He sighed and fought back tears; he had been holding America's hand when he was a child. Arthur looked at his hand and smiled listlessly, he could still feel it in the palm of his hand, soft and innocent. "_Anglettere_?" asked a familiar voice behind him. Arthur looked up and noticed Francis with Mathew, the Canadian diplomat, he seemed to be concerned. "Oh, right lunch," he stammered before snapping out of his memory and stood. He collected his pages and looked at them, "So lunch, where are we going?" he asked after a moment as he tapped the pages on the desk to make them fall into place. Mathew grinned and responded, "Francis had two ducks cooked and delivered, it sounds wonderful." Arthur nodded and replied, "Sounds good." Francis looked even more concerned, Arthur didn't fight back, he always bit back.

"Arthur?" Francis asked slowly, his blue eyes fell on him, and Arthur inwardly squirmed under his gaze. Nothing seemed to get past France, which was probably what irritated him the most. "Have you ever looked at a colony and asked yourself if they still cared about you?" he asked after a moment. He looked at Francis' messy long blond hair and noticed how the Frenchmen looked slightly taken back. "Mathew, could you check on our lunch?" he asked sweetly. The Canadian's lavender eyes looked up at him in confusion, and he seemed to detect Francis' sincerity and nodded. Arthur watched the young man walk away and felt that familiar ache again. Francis sighed and looked at Arthur, "Come, I need some air," he said as he slowly turned. Arthur followed his mind was occupied with the thoughts of Alfred. The boy who always wore a bomber jacket and ran after him, to see his standing in a suit and tie sitting beside him, no father would be prouder. "What's brought this on?" asked Francis softly as he looked at Arthur.

Thick eyebrows lifted as he looked at the Frenchmen, "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly. Francis spun and stood before him, his hands gripped the Englishman's shoulders. "You haven't looked like this since the Revolution," he stated as his blue eyes narrowed. The Revolution was painful, not as painful as watching the Civil War, he tried to pull Alfred back into his arms only for him to splinter into two pieces. "I just," Arthur paused and sighed, "I want him to look at me with the same wide eyes he had when we met in that meadow by the stream when he was a boy. I miss that look," he stated as he hung his head. He knew he was being selfish, he couldn't help it, he was his colony. His son, he had the greatest influence over the boy. Francis hummed and slowly released his shoulders, he smiled listlessly, and drew a deep breath. "He's grown a great deal," he stated as he slowly turned and walked toward a door labeled staircase. He pushed the door open and Arthur followed, "It isn't selfishness, you love him," he stated. Arthur nodded as the pair walked up the stairs in silence, which made Francis slightly uneasy. He hadn't seen this gentleness since Alfred took his first steps toward growing an economy. That moment, in which a parent realizes that their child was growing up, whether he wanted them to or not, which had caused Arthur to call the man and get drunk.

"Arthur, you know as well as I do, that he loves you. He must! Why else would he seek you out when he needed advice?" asked Francis as he stopped before the door. Arthur sighed, it was true, he had served as Alfred's soundboard for a number of issues. The part Francis didn't know was that those events in which they would get together and discuss both policy and culture were diminishing. Francis pushed open the door, a rush a cool air hit his face and subtle warmth washed over him. At first Arthur had been blinded, not he could see a beautiful blue sky, there were still clouds and he began to wonder when it had stopped raining. "Ah, a good sign, _non_?" said Francis with a smile as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his pinstriped suit pants. Alfred slowly stepped into the light and looked at the sight of the Hudson and the city which had erupted in his former colony. So much history in this one spot, so much time captured in buildings and blocks that it made Arthur smile. He watched as Francis walked toward the railing and leaned on it, his elbows rested on the banister, and he faced Arthur. He felt as though he were landing in the New World all over again, that fear and excitement which he though he had lost. Part of it was due to the fact they weren't supposed to be on the roof yet, just as he was about to say something a gust of wind rushed through and he closed his eyes for a moment. He drew a deep breath and felt some of the sadness fall away from him. "I just wish I could tell him," he whispered as he slowly walked over to the blond Frenchman and leaned on the banister. He looked over the city affectionately, "Quoi?" Francis asked after a moment. Arthur smiled gently, three little words which had caused him the most difficulty to say, "I love you, that's what I can't seem to say," he whispered.

He could hear the traffic bellow and flags fly in the wind, "I think he'll realize it eventually, if he hasn't already," Francis replied as he tipped his head back and took in the sun. Arthur hummed, that wasn't the kind of love he felt, it wasn't paternal. It was more, as he watched the young man grow and the flags fly he fell in love along the way with Alfred. Not America but Alfred himself. That pride, genuine curiosity and sense of duty to the world, made him feel proud. However, it was the child like grins, kindness and innovative ideas which made him Alfred. "They grow up so quickly," Arthur commented as he looked at his hands, in a breath he had watched the boy grow up and battle for human rights. "That they do," whispered Francis, "They really do." Francis pushed himself off the banister and looked at him, "We better get back to Mathew, he'll wonder where we are," he stated. Arthur nodded and glared at the Frenchmen, "You are to never breathe a word of this, or I will cut out your tongue, Francis," he hissed. There he was, that difficult and practical Englishman had finally returned. "I get it okay, mortal enemies publically, and close friends privately," he stated as he shrugged it off and continued to walk across the roof toward the staircase. After a few moments they vanished, however what they didn't expect was a certain pair of nations sitting on the other side of the door.

Sweet words rang in Alfred's ears, he turned crimson red, and stared at Kiku Honda, the Japanese delegate. His nearly black eyes were locked on Alfred, a hand covered Alfred's mouth as he closed his eyes. Arthur loved him, even if it was paternal he could handle it. He drew a deep breath and moaned, "Just when I was about to give up." He felt as though he were going to break, he looked at Kiku and smiled, "I'm not a disappointment," he stammered. A gentle hand rubbed Alfred's back as the nation choked back tears, "I," he began only to crumble. He felt as though his footing had been knocked loose after hearing what Arthur was thinking. "I love him, Kiku," he whispered as he looked at the Japanese delegate. He watched ink black hair bob as he nodded, "You know, he's always loved you. He must to have put up with you for so long," he pointed out. Alfred ignored the stab of the Japanese man and whispered, "I thought he loathed me." He could remember the constant nagging from the older nation about his weight, his standard diet which consisted of hamburgers and milkshakes. Constantly told his ideas were childish until 9/11, when his world was turned upside down. "Clearly he doesn't," commented Kiku after a moment, "Come on we have to get back." Alfred nodded as he took the last swig of his Coke before getting up to leave. Kiku was on his heels again, they were going back into battle to see if they could diffuse the situation between the North and South.

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**_Edit: Thanks for all of the reviews, favorites and follows! I will continue if I keep receiving such phenomenal feed back. Also, there were a few errors such as Arthur and Francis not being on the Security Council of the UN, so this was fixed. I also fixed the duck and made it plural. Sorry guys, I wasn't thinking about the size of the little animal. I was more focused on trying to get Arthur's feelings across._**


	2. Chapter 2: The Sound of Drums

_I apologize for the wait, I know many of you are wondering if I will continue. I will. Thank you hanamiyoko1 for editing, and I want to also thank all of you who volunteered. There will be a google doc version of this story in it's original format available at a later date, as well as a playlist so be on the look out. _

_Laters,_

_~Kuro._

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**Chapter 2: The Sound of Drums**

The meeting started again, after a few hours Alfred had finally had enough of the North Korean and called upon the next issue. There was another upheaval in Africa which was causing South Africa, represented by Maartin Zuma, a great deal of trouble. Revolutions in Africa and dictators had became a perpetual issue and Maartin was called for an end to the child soldiers:

"We can't put a gun in a child's hands, ask him to kill and then expect him to understand fully what he's just done. They aren't old enough to make those decisions," he stated.

Alfred paused and drew a deep breath, revolutions were something which he supported in the past. However with this new development he began to question what the point was. Over and over again, the governments were overthrown and another was put in place, slowly it would become corrupted and then collapse.

"It isn't the government which is training these children, but the freedom fighters in the North," shouted the delegate from the Central African Republic. His nation had been torn apart by England, France and Germany as they raced to conquer the world. It had disgusted him to see what England had done to the nation. South Africa had sent troops in to crush the rebels and prevented another economic crisis.

Alfred slowly zoned out for the rest of the meeting, he didn't even realize it was over, until the Chinese delegate nudge him. Arthur's words were still fresh in his mind, and he could see the image of the man retreating.

* * *

"Mr. Jones, it's time to get going, we have a trade agreement to discuss, aru," stated Wang Yao, who clearly just wanted to get that business done so he could go home. Alfred nodded as he rose from his seat. The Chinese gentleman had long black hair which was braided and almond eyes. He looked similar to Kiku, but was far more arrogant.

The pair left the room and wandered into another conference room, Alfred opened the door and allowed Wang to enter:

_"_Xièxiè_. Now, about trade agreements, aru" - he said swiftly as he took a seat at the table and looked at Alfred.

After the mass hacking in China, the nation was somewhat regretful to do businesses with the US. On top of Apple's conducts when it came to the warranty paperwork and repair stipulations on the website, which Alfred had no power over. It was understandable, however, tensions weren't released after some power-companies in the US were hacked. Alfred had received a report that the individual responsible was a Chinese citizen.

Wang placed the documents before Alfred and smiled, as always his terms were steep. China periodically opened and closed its self to foreigners, it would open long enough to gather technologies, ideas and then close itself off when it was satisfied and felt it could advance.

Alfred slowly picked up his pen and began to annotate on a subsection.

"Okay, you are now being unreasonable. This is completely horrendous, we have followed every one of your stipulations to this point," he stated as he looked at Wang. Oceanic blue eyes narrowed when he looked at Wang's nearly-black eyes.

"You can't ask for our technologies and not accept the firms which come with it. You are giving the Chinese industries an advantage which is commendable but, no rational businessman would agree to this," he stated angrily.

Wang was slightly taken aback and he looked at Alfred, clearly he hadn't anticipated Alfred's sincerity. He then reached into his bag and pulled out a red folder and placed it before Alfred. -"I know, that was the original I amended it" - Wang stared at Alfred apprehensively and commented, "Our intention is to introduce the world to China and China to the world, we didn't intend to cause harm, aru."

The American's shoulders dropped as he looked at the document, his eyes were glued to the original until he noticed a note from Kiku. He could barely contain himself as he looked at the drawing, "What?" asked Wang quickly, clearly he thought Alfred was about to lose it.

On the back of the last page was the sketch of a massive hero which had come out of a miniaturized sail boat. He laughed hysterically as he read Kiku's note:

_"Now available in 15 colors and patterns. You too can own a transforming android!"

Wang stared at the sheet and turned several shades red with anger.

_ "Moron! That Japanese Moron! Aru" - he boomed as he read the comment.

Of course Kiku was going to pick on his massive labor force producing products of every size and use. Alfred's glasses were lifted off his nose as he rubbed his teary eyes:

_"I know, but come on" - he commented as he closed his eyes.

Alfred couldn't remember the last time he had laughed that hard. He stopped after a moment; Arthur's comment came back about how he missed seeing the boy he had met by the river. His eyes fell on the red folder. In fact, he missed the way Arthur treating him like he was all that mattered. He missed that attention and the ability to spend time with the man exclusively.

"Jones, are you going to look at the document at least, aru?" asked Wang. A blond hair-head lifted and he nodded as he recomposed himself and opened the file.

* * *

The sound of pages turning filled the room as the pair looked over the proposals.

"This is feasible," stated Alfred after a moment. He scratched his initials on the page and Wang used his seal. "Very," he confirmed as he slipped the document back in the cover. All that was left was to present it to the Boss, it was a good deal with a number of compromises which both nations had made.

_"How has 'getting control over the Bird Flu flare ups' been going?" asked Alfred as he slid the document back into the red folder. Wang sighed and responded:

_ "Tiresome, this time it's become a little more difficult to get under control. We have contacted the WHO as well as the CDC to tell them of the status. So far it's spread across the nation, aru."

Alfred felt his teeth set on edge, if this disease were to be transmitted from person to person it could spell disaster for everyone. He could only remember the damage which Hoof in Mouth had done to England and the Swine Flu had done to America. He maintained a cool composure however, it was difficult to not panic a little since a majority of the world's farms were still based in the United States.

_ "We have been working pretty much around the clock and determined that this strand, H7N9, can not be transmitted between people. We are watching it though," he replied.

Alfred nodded as he internally breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Arthur was about to leave the UN when he felt a pair of large hands grab him. He felt as though France was going to pick on him, again.

"Bloody hell?" - he asked as he spun around to meet a pair of frantic crystal blue eyes looking back at him. His massive frame dwarfed Arthur and his slicked back blond hair screamed that he was all business - "Ludwig, what happened?" he asked quickly. He hadn't expected to see the tall German chasing after him. It was time that they all retired for the evening.

_"The North has moved its missiles closer to the South's borders, they are targeting the coast," he stated.

Arthur froze he stared at the German in shock, that wasn't a move he had anticipated. He had expected the North to hack the Southern banks again, which was what they had concluded after looking at the details involved in the massive cyber attack which had happened a month ago. The only reason the Chinese and Russians were pulled off the table was that they would actually be harming a valuable trading partner.

_"What?" he stammered - "That's not."

He turned and dashed back into the building. The armistice had been lifted, and it appeared that the North was ready to move. He had to do something, even if it was small there had to be some way to force the North Koreans to move their warheads. Arthur's shoes clicked against the linoleum floors as he ran through the halls to get back to his office. He had to call MI6 and see if they had anyone there, they could be a sleeper for all he cared. Those warheads had to be moved, disarmed or damaged to that they couldn't be fired.

What felt like a lifetime passed in a minute as he threw open the doors of his office and snatched the handset from its cradle. He was about to place the call when the Austrian delegate opened the door:

"Please tell me you have a plan," he barked. His violet eyes narrowed as he swept a hand through his unruly brown hair - "We are in trouble if North Korea does this, China is going to march to war and we can't afford that" - he stated, it was clear he was nervous, how could he not be. Roderich Edelstein never looked irritated it only showed in his music. Yet this time the worry had seeped into his tone. Arthur looked up - "I'm calling MI6, there may be someone there" - he replied as he dialed the number.

The Austrian stood there, usually other nations left the room but when it concerned the Koreans many nations stuck together. Usually England and Austria avoided confrontation, it wasn't as stressful as seeing Austria and Germany going at it, however he was usually their last choice.

_"Should I get Jones?" he asked after a moment as Arthur listened to the message.

He froze and looked at him, Alfred would more likely than not have operatives in the North. There was this ache to do things without Alfred's assistance, if he could get this under control he would be able to prove that he wasn't useless. There was an ache in his chest, he was well aware the fasted he acted the better the results, and Roderich was honestly ready to do whatever he had to in order to prevent the outbreak of another world war.

_"No, I will tell him" - Arthur stated glacially as he was connected to his contact in MI6.

Roderich looked slightly taken back, he made no brash remarks or even lowered his gaze, he simply watched the Englishman speak to his contact. Arthur was never one to make irrational decisions, he always weighed the odds before making a move.

"You expected something to happen," stated Roderic, his lavender eyes narrowed as he watched the emerald eyed Englishman place the call. Emerald eyes glanced over at him:

_"I need to know if we have anyone on the ground in the North" - his voice was clear as a bell.

There was an heir of authority which the nation always had when it came to international issues and those of security. "I see, keep me updated," he stated before hanging up. His eyes fell on the Austrian delegate:

_"They are on the move," he stated before placing his hands on the desk. Cloak and dagger was something he had been doing for centuries, while America boasted about its spies, he had kept his under wraps.

_"I'm going to see Ivan and I need to meet with Wang. I know they have men in Korea as well" - he said to Roderic.

_"Wang is in a meeting with Jones, and by now he already knows. Are you sure its a good idea to keep America on the sidelines of this?" the Austrian asked hesitantly, his accent was leaking through.

Even though Alfred had grown up a bit, he was concerned that this would play out like the Cold War with the young American's involvement.

_"I will inform him, however,"he paused and drew a deep breath, Alfred's resources were exhausted thanks to the constant troops he was sending to the Middle East. Another war was the last thing he needed, even though they had been feeling the stress of the economy it was possible to continue this battle the old fashioned way.

_"Alfred is nearly exhausted, haven't you noticed it? America doesn't have an endless line of credit like it used to," he replied harshly.

It would also give Arthur a chance to feel needed again and as though he belonged on the council. Roderic nodded and commented:

_"I will grab the South Korean delegate and the Japanese, however I believe that Wang has left for the day," he replied.

Arthur pulled his mobile and began to call Wang.

_"I need you to grab Hong Kong as well," he stated quickly.

Roderic vanished and sprinted down the hall to collect the representatives which Arthur had stated.

* * *

The Englishman took a seat at his desk and drew a deep breath, he closed his eyes and remembered the day Alfred had rebelled. He could remember the pounding of the drums as clear as day, the sound of angry men. He knew this was different, but the sound of that snare and the blasting of cannons wouldn't get out of his head. At his expense he watched Alfred splinter as the nation tore itself into two. His heart was pounding as he came to the realization that North Korea may actually go through with this and destroy not only the South but Japan in the process. There was a loud rap on the door which made him jump, standing there was Francis, looking as concerned as Arthur felt.

"Do you hear the song of angry men?" he asked nervously.

It was unusual for Francis to be quoting Le Miserable, then again it was appropriate this time.

"I hear the drums" - he whispered - "those infernal drums."

The pair looked at one another, oddly enough neither was in the mood to quarrel with one another.

"We can't have another war," he whispered, World War Two was in his memory. He could remember the heart shattering images of the bombs falling on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Arthur was only able to imagine the terror Kiku was feeling as the Koreans moved their missiles.

* * *

Ivan, Kiku, Im Yong Soo and the Hong Kong delegate were standing there. All of them were looking at Arthur who drew a deep breath, he had been playing these games for far too long for North Korea to defeat him. He stood tall and square as he looked at the four and asked:

_"Wang?".

Ivan looked at him and responded, "Returning from a meeting with Alfred." He nodded as he looked at the group. "We denounce all the action in which the North have made," said Ivan darkly.

Arthur was standing before them, he wasn't the useless, he couldn't be. He had protected Alfred, Matthew, Kaoru and Parata, he wasn't about to let any other nation be trampled on.

"We need to talk in a secure location, it's time to pool assets and deal with this swiftly," he stated, his tone was strong and firm which seemed to surprise a number of people in the room.

He slipped around the front of his desk and lead them into a soundproofed room. Along the way he heard Francis whisper to Ivan - 'I thought he had lost that fire'. He knew full well what they were talking about as he continued down the hall. 'It's as though he is still the mighty British Empire, I was beginning to wonder where that spirit went,' whispered the Frenchmen.


	3. Chapter 3: Pain and Terror

_I apologize for how late this installment is, I've been juggling school and taking care of my mother. She's been in and out of the hospital, with doctors appointments all over the count, so I've been a little busy. You'll see another installment after March 15. _

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**Chapter 3: Pain and Terror**

Arthur sat near the window with a volume of English Folklore sat on his lap, as he gazed out the window. Several days had passed since the last meeting, and North Korea stated that it wasn't going to move its warheads, and went further on to state that they would no longer guarantee the safety of public facilities, conciliates, and embassies. The representative went farther to state that the Japanese were also not immune to their attacks. The Englishman was outraged by this statement, however he didn't expect Wang's announcement less than an hour later. The Chinese delegate's voice rang in his ears:

_ "We do not support the North in these hostile actions and will do all that is necessary to prevent the invasion of the South."

For the Chinese to not come to the aid of North Korea was something which floored the North, it was apparent they had expected both Russia and China to support them. The nations had managed to compile a decent force of assorted assets. As he guessed both Russia and China had agents in North Korea as well as the Japanese. He had yet to tell Alfred, part of him wanted Alfred to stay out of this. The first time he watched the United States' battle in Korea, everything was on the air and he watched soldiers be slaughtered mercilessly by guerilla warfare.

_"However, we must ask why you continuously antagonize them?" - asked Wang. The room had fallen silent as the Chinese delegate looked at the other Eastern countries. "Their goal is to convince us that they are a legitimate threat, by giving this much attention they will surely continue to behave in the manor which, they have been for a great deal of time," Wang commented and looked at Kiku. Oddly the pair nodded in agreement:

_"Yet, if we stand by they will continue to mass power which, will be even more of an issue," stated Kiku which, caused the delegates to look at one another.

No matter how the cards fell the same outcome seemed to occur:

_"You know, Ivan, there was a game we used to play during World War Two and later on in the Fifties," stated Arthur with a grin.

If there was one thing the pair knew how to do, it was train spies. Alfred had commissioned the CIA in the fifties which had dominated the field, yet when it came to skill both MI6 and the former KGB operatives were perhaps the most effective.

_"It would seem that there has come a time for our little game to expand, da?" asked Ivan as he smiled broadly.

Arthur nodded and looked at the group, all of whom were in agreement with the new policy of stating who was in support but not to overreact.

The ice clinked against the glass as Arthur lifted it to his lips, the smell of scotch filled his nose, his eyes gazed out the window listlessly. His green eyes were filled with sadness as he lowered the glass and traced the rim with his finger. It rang as he did so and his eyes fell on his black slacks. The phone rang again and he sighed, it had been ringing all day:

_"Arthur this is Francis, I'm so sorry for your loss mon cher. She was one strong woman".

_"Anglettere, if you need to talk, you can call me".

The message ended and Arthur sighed. Margaret Thatcher had just passed away, she was 87 years old and perhaps one of the strongest women he had ever met. He closed his eyes and felt his chest tighten, the one person he wished would call wasn't going to. He downed the rest of the glass and slowly placed it on the table. Margaret Thatcher managed to save England from bankruptcy, even if they didn't appreciate her for it. Nations around the world expressed their condolence for her death; even the US president gave a speech to express his sympathy. Yet, the one voice which hadn't cracked through the line yet was the one he needed to hear the most.

He drew a deep breath before placing the glass on the side table, the past few days had been a rush. Everything in his mind was colliding; North Korea unveiled a new long range missile. There was a knock on the door and he abandoned the glass of scotch on the table, it was two am in the morning, he walked through the apartment and looked through at the screen which was linked to the camera near the entrance. Standing in a trench with a hat on was none other than Wang, his long black hair was braided and he could see the silk suit he was wearing beneath it. Arthur snatched the phone from its cradle and asked:

_"Wang, what's going on?"

There was a pause, his green eyes slid down the screen, and he noticed a jet black briefcase which, was identical to the ones which he and Russia used during the Cold War.

_"Information-aru" - the Chinese delegate replied quickly.

He paused, Arthur had instructed them to hand over what they had to MI6. Without much thought he was buzzing the drenched Chinese delegate in.

_"Kettle, he's soaked and will want something hot to drink," he stated.

Why Wang was coming to see him was confusing, he had a feeling the delegate from Hong Kong told him what he was up to. Yet, he wasn't actually expecting China to respond, he had a feeling that his government was going to attempt to distance it's self from the mess as much as possible. The water splashed in the sink as he filled the silver kettle.

_"What on earth did Wang find for him to visit me at two in the morning?" he asked.

The kettle felt heavier as it filled, there had to be something; Wang didn't just appear without an adequate reason. Arthur ceased to fill the kettle and placed it on the stove. His fingers slipped around the cabinet doors as he retrieved a pair of porcelain cups, he was about to measure out the leaves when he realized that his bottle of scotch was in plain sight. Part of him wondered if it would be wise to simply leave the bottle out. He was about to place the decanter back on the sideboard, when he heard a knock on his door.

In a flash he had the door open and standing before him was a soaked Chinese man, he slipped off his wide brimmed hat and looked at Arthur, it was apparent he had run from his embassy to here.

_"Come in, Wang." - said Arthur coolly as he stepped aside.

He watched as the small Chinese man slipped out of the black coat, which was now dripping on the wooden floor and handed it to Arthur. It was unusual to see the delegate out of his traditional black suit, yet the black and red ensemble suited him just as well. His brown eyes glided as they looked over the Englishman's flat.

_"You're still mourning" he commented after a moment, "Forgive me, but this couldn't wait".

Arthur watched Wang move through the room, as always he looked as though he were dancing. His grace was even more evident than the Russian's who prided themselves on ballet.

Then, Arthur returned to the chair he had been resting in previously; emerald green eyes were locked on the man sitting across from him. Wang's appearance was perhaps the greatest act of deception he had ever seen. He was slender, delicate looking with amber eyes and light brown long hair, a portrait of elegance and tenderness. Yet under the man's skin, was one with ruthless roots and an iron fist. He refused to accept failure and pushed for greatness, a truly strong and intelligent man who was always five steps ahead. Arthur watched as the man crossed his legs and folded his hands on his lap.

_"You have a nice apartment" - commented the Chinese man as his eyes slowly settled on Arthur. The Englishman was accustomed to the fact that Wang was going to make sure he had a way to escape and look for weakness, he expected nothing less:

_"Thank you" - he replied graciously - "Tea or something stronger?" he asked as he looked at the crystal decanter with Scotch in it.

_"I will have tea, however don't hold yourself back on my account" - he commented.

Arthur chuckled and smiled, clearly Wang knew he had been drinking and honestly could do with another:

_"Perceptive as always" - he stated as he rose from his red leather chair, and walked to the side board with decanter in hand. He placed the crystal on the sideboard and replied:

_"However, I'm no use to you plastered."

He heard a chuckle of amusement leave the other party, he knew he was a boisterous and lousy drunk. Ludwig, Roderich, Gilbert and Alfred were constantly reminding him of this.

_"I put the kettle on a moment ago, it will take awhile I'm afraid," he stated.

Wang merely nodded and reached to the side of his chair to pull the familiar black case. Arthur watched out of the corner of his eye as Wang opened the case with a snap.

_"It was a huge risk bringing this here, however, the Minister and myself felt that these documents couldn't wait" - he stated as he reached into the case and held out a bright red folder.

The Englishman paused, the Minister was in on this and he started to wonder how far up this was going. He took the folder as he returned to his seat, the thought of preparing the tea slipped his mind.

_"We collected that from an informant in Nampo, we are currently taking him back to the Mainland after he had been made by the North Koreans" - he explained as Arthur began to flicker through the pages until he came across something even more frightening:

_"They have a long range which works?" he asked in terror. If this was so Australia and the United States would be in danger. Wang nodded and replied:

_"They are going to do a test in a few hours of the missile, which will work. Our source stated that this one will fly unlike the last few that failed."

Arthur blanched and looked at the rest of the information, not only did they have both long and short range missiles, but every size in between.

_"He has intercontinental missiles which will more likely than not be aimed at various territories" - stated the Chinese delegate.

Arthur was snapped back to reality, this was far more pressing than he had anticipated. He hadn't heard a word about this through his connections, he was beginning to wonder what was really going on.

He flipped another page and gaped at the list of targets, Japan, Okinawa, US bases in the Pacific, Australia, and parts of Alaska. He looked up and asked:

_"Wang, does Alfred know?"

There was silence between the two, a majority of the targets were of his younger brother, the boy he protected and raised, he wasn't about to sit back and allow this.

_"Arthur, call me Yao, and by now he does, the CIA are very good at intercepting information" he stated.

It had been a long time since Yao even uttered Arthur's name. He had caused China so much pain in his desire for power. It was a wonder Yao was even working with him now. He heard the kettle whistle from the other room, he knew he couldn't hide this from Alfred, however, he wanted to for as long as he possibly could. Arthur walked into the kitchen and removed the kettle from the heat.

Alfred was supposed to be running a marathon over the week in Boston, he had overheard him talking to Kiku about it. He chuckled remembering what he had said about it being the Marathon for Heroes. The steam from the hot water filled the air as he poured it across the leaves. The scent of the tea filled the room and brought him a little ease, he finished soaking the tea leaves and placed a pair of matching porcelain cups, saucers and other related articles required for tea drinking on a silver tray.

_"I made Earl Gray, simply because I am out of Green, I forgot to purchase a tin" he stated as he entered the room.

Yao was silent, usually the delegate would berate him for not having the tea leaves he preferred. There was a pause and he slowly poked his head around the corner, he could see Yao looking even paler than he had prior to this.

_"Wang?" asked Arthur as he returned to the room, the Chinese man's eyes didn't leave his phone.

_"Yao?" he called again as he approached, he stopped and stood before the young Chinese man.

_"Kirkland, Boston" - he said as he held his phone up for Arthur to see - "Was Alfred running that race, aru?" he asked after a moment.

His eyes were wide and Arthur turned ghost white. Unconsciously his fingers which had been wrapped around the handles of the elegant silver tray loosened, sending the tray to the floor. It landed with a loud crash, shards of porcelain flew in every direction and he could feel the hot water through his pants. It seared his legs, and yet he couldn't utter a word. Arthur couldn't manage to get a word out. It was as though someone had caught his tongue. Yao was out of his seat and running toward the bathroom to get a towel and cold water. He could vaguely hear the shouts of a frantic Chinese man, a pair of small strong hands was on his waist.

_"Arthur, take these off, I need to get to your legs" barked Yao.

Arthur nodded and slowly unbuckled his belt, in a flash Yao had him out of his trousers and sitting in the large leather chair. A slew of curses were falling from the Chinese man's lips as he drenched a cloth in cold water and was pressing the rag to his burns.

_"They don't look too bad, aru," he commented as his small calloused hands worked quickly to tend to his injuries.

The images of the streets of Boston covered in rubble, injured individuals panicking and the city. He felt his heart constrict, he had built that city for Alfred, it was where they clashed the first time. Now the streets were covered in blood and rubble once again. His entire body shook violently:

_"Arthur, was Alfred in that race?" asked Yao again.

Green eyes shifted downward to see a pair of concerned ambers looking at him. His tongue finally fell loose and he managed:

_"Y-Yes"

The word it's self hurt more than the hot water which, had hit his legs. It was as though he were standing there and watching the twin towers fall again. That day which Arthur swore he had lost Alfred, it changed everything about the young man to the point that he had lost his smile.

Yao looked at Arthur and placed a firm hand on his leg:

_"Arthur we will find him, I'm sure Matthew is running to aid him" he stated.

The Englishman smiled listlessly, clearly Yao could see the emotions which had been flying across his face freely.

_"Yao, I need to find him" he whispered and suddenly the Chinese man realized that he wasn't the right person. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile:

_"I'm going to make a call, apply some aloe to these burns" he said smoothly.

Arthur didn't argue he simply picked up the circular container of clear gel and obediently applied it. Yao slipped the sleek mobile up to his ear and vanished from the room.


	4. Chapter 4: A Gentle Touch

_Hey guys, sorry for not posting this sooner, I didn't forget I drafted the chapter twice. After a great deal of debating, which The Crazy Breadstick helped me with, I fused the two drafts together. I will be using parts of those long drafts in the next chapter as well, since some of it I really like. I hope you guys enjoy._

_Thank you to the following people for adding this piece to their Alerts: AquaSoks, CJWrites, CircadianLily, CloakedMagician, Daily English Dreamer, Daisy-Max1196, DarknessLightsTheWorld, Dreameroftime, Esmeraude11, Eternally1Yours, EuterpeDream, FluffyWhitePandas, Jinxie, Kabe Allamar, Linale Ashley M, Miss know-all, Moonlit dark, MoustacheMan, NamiLei, NoxDawn24642, Sora Resi, The Crazy Breadstick, The Truth's Lie, Zemmno, pheonixflame2010, softballqueen219, xXZerto LoverXx and hanamiyoko1._

_For Adding to Favorites: Daisy-Max1196, Dreameroftime, FluffyWhitePandas, Impeccable Logic, Kabe Allamar, Linale Ashley M, Miss know-all, USClearVeilJP, dream raven13, hanamiyoko1, phoenixflame2010, and softballqueen219_

_I want to thank those who have ben reviewing, I love reading them and I love knowing what you guys think and like. I'm glad that all of you have taken an interest in my work and continue to read. You guys are amazing. Thank you so much! _

_I also want to thank both The Crazy Breadstick and hanamiyoko1. Crazy your assistance with selecting drafts was a huge help, so thank you I honesty wasn't sure how to do it. Hanamiyoko1, thank you for being patient with me and working as my Beta, you are amazing. _

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Gentle Touch**

Yao was standing in the hallway, he could hear his heart beating echo in the silence of Arthur's apartment. There was only one other time he had seen the delegate look that shaken - the date which everyone in the world watched in horror.

"Please pick up" - he begged into the phone as it rang - "please".

There was a click on the other end which made Yao practically jump.

"Francis, please tell me you're watching the footage, aru," Yao stated quickly, he looked back around the corner to a pale Arthur. It was unsettling to see the Englishman that frightened.

"If you mean the bombing in Boston, oui" - responded the Frenchman. He sounded as upset as Yao:

"Arthur's not taking this well, he's in shock. He needs you" - he stated quickly.

His amber eyes were locked on the man who was now trembling in the chair. He could hear Francis barking something in French in the background as he went to get his coat.

"I'll be there in ten, call Roderich he has access to a helicopter" - the Frenchman said, he could hear the rustle of fabric as the Frenchman slipped into his coat. Yao hummed and commented:

"He dropped a kettle and has minor burns, nothing too severe, but enough to be painful. I want to take him to a hospital; however," his voice faded as he watched the Englishmen clasp his hands together and bring them to his lips.

"I understand, tell him we will find Alfred" - the Frenchman barked before hanging up. Yao returned to the living room: "Arthur?" - he asked after a moment.

The Englishman refused to make eye contact, everything inside him was telling him to run to Alfred's aid.

"I need to find him, if I've lost him" - he paused, and Yao stared in shock as he witnessed something. never should have, tears fell free from Arthur's eyes. "I can't lose him, not again" - he managed to whisper.

The Chinese delegate grabbed a box of tissues and held them out to him. The pain and panic was now very real, it was more than enough to cause him concern. President Xi's daughter was attending Harvard, in reality he should have been calling around to make sure she was safe. Yet, he couldn't let this man plunge into worry. He had seen it once, and he vowed to never watch it again.

"We will find him" - Yao assured the Englishman - "We must".

In truth, he had no idea how they would find Alfred, the most he could do was prepare for the event to come if Alfred wasn't found or was killed. The thought wasn't a pleasant one, he didn't want to be cynical or negative, however, the possibility that Alfred was killed was high. He didn't want to watch Arthur make decisions on how to bury the boy who was a son to him, and so much more. His cell buzzed which made him jump a little, the tension in the room was high and he could feel the anxiety radiate off of Arthur. Yao glanced down at the message and sighed:

"Leave it to Francis to try and lighten the mood" - he uttered as he walked toward the door.

_Francis Bonnefoy:_

_The doorman won't let me up! No matter how many comments I make about his cute ass! Yao buzz me in so I can come and comfort an anxious Englishman._

Yao hit the buzzer to open the door and allowed Francis to enter the building. In what seemed like seconds the Frenchman was knocking on the door. Yao glanced down at his watch and then through he peephole, he expected flowers, only to see nothing of the sort, he had brought Ludwig, Roerich and Gilbert. He hadn't expected to see the three Germans; he had only given Francis a call. He sighed as he opened the door and asked:

"Why are they here, I thought I only told you to come, aru?" asked Yao. He was starting get flustered which meant his accent was seeping through his speech like ink inwater. He moved to the side to allow them entry, the air was thick with fear from Arthur who was now up and pacing. His footsteps seemed to echo through the flat, as he wore a hole into the floor with worry. Yao couldn't blame him, if Kiku, Imu Yon Su, Kaoru, or even Mei Xiao, he would worry.

Francis visibly paled when he saw the Englishman who was now consumed by worry.

"_Angleterre_?" - asked Francis as he slowly approached the pacing Englishman.

"I can't lose him again," muttered the Englishman as he paced.

Roderich paused and pulled out his phone before stating:

"There is a helicopter on stand by, heading to Boston. He is willing to take Arthur, myself, and one more"

Arthur's head snapped up, his green eyes were locked on the sincere pair of violets now gazing back at him.

"Thank you, where are we going precisely?" asked Arthur. There was silence again, Roderich knew where the wounded were being taken, he had a feeling he would find Alfred at the hospital.

"The hospital," replied Roderich. He wasn't going to lie to a man in his state.

"Take me there" - commanded Arthur, "I have to find him".

* * *

Everything had happened so fast, in seconds the cheer of Boston was replaced with fear. What seemed like an eternity ago was actually only in that morning.

Boston was wide awake for their historic marathon. It was one of the oldest and most prestigious in the world. Men and women of all ages seemed to gear up for the race. Dressed in his standard red, white and blue ensemble was Alfred. It was rather nippy out, but he had heard it was supposed to get warmer. He reached behind himself as he picked up his foot and stretched his calves, he had eaten a light breakfast and had a little coffee to wake up. He could see his breath as he exhaled; there was a surge of excitement through the city. Today people would be cheering each other on, supporting one another so that all of them could cross the finish line.

"Mr. Jones!" - called a familiar voice. Alfred turned to see a bulky gentleman in a black suite with a white shirt on jog toward him:

"You refused a security detail for the race," he shouted, "This is extremely dangerous!".

Alfred adjusted his glasses as he turned to the man - Erin, he was the head of his personal security. In fact, Alfred didn't feel much need for them, however the president had insisted that he utilize members of the FBI and Secret Service for his own protection.

Naturally he knew that his life was important, but he didn't see the need as to why he should stand out. It wasn't like a great number of people recognized him as both a delegate from the UN and the soul of the nation.

"I understand you have issues with this, however today I am a normal citizen in a race, I don't need security," he commented.

He knew stating he was a hero would only cause them to over-ride him so he didn't mention it.

"Besides, I highly doubt you guys will let them near me, I know you have security set up all around the course. You don't have to run beside me to protect me," he commented as he reached backward and grabbed his other foot to stretch the left hamstring. There was a pause as Erin came to reason with this:

"Fine, just be careful," he hissed and walked off.

Alfred knew he was asking for the impossible, yet that didn't stop him. He was going to run this race, he had to. Not just because he was expected to but it gave him a chance to get Arthur out of his head.

Ever since that day on the roof, Arthur's words seemed to float aimlessly in his head. He simply wanted to run from the confusing emotions inside him, and if this marathon would allow it, he would gladly do it.

His feet pounded the earth as he came to a turn, he was near the finish line, he could see the red tape as he approached. His legs were heavy and he sounded light a freight train. In truth he had trained for months, diligently working on getting his pace and stride just right.

A cheer spread through the crowd, he was the first racer there were several people behind him including a young woman. A mob of people had just turned the corner and he knew he had to go faster to win.

Throughout the race he witnessed the immense amount of support people had for one another, helping up those who had tripped and slowing down when others couldn't breath. It amazed him how people helped one another.

His sky blue eyes swept over the crowd, when he noticed something out-of-place, a man in a neon yellow beanie, everyone else was dressed differently, bright patriotic colors and awareness colors.

He looked over his shoulder at the young Chinese woman who was diligently keeping pace, he was so impressed that it was tempting to invite her for a drink in the end. Not as a date, but simply to make a new friend. She honestly reminded him of Yao, petite frame with long black hair and a pair of determined amber eyes.

There was a loud sound and Alfred's eyes widened, it was an explosion, he felt the pavement shake and heard the shatter of glass as the force knocked the windows from their panes.

Unconsciously he wrapped himself around the young woman and covered her as he fell to the ground. The sheer force caused him to fly backward, glass sliced through his skin as it flew, it was hot and stung as though he had received lashings. He landed on the pavement harshly, his head crashed against it, and he could hear an agonizing crack. Pain shot through him like a bolt of electricity, he moaned as he tried to focus on the girl who was now beside him.

His ears rang, and he felt as though he were trapped in a haze. People were running in every direction to escape, while others went to aid loved ones. Panic spread through the city like the cancer they were fighting to prevent. It was rapid and seemed to eat away at their rational.

Pain shot through Alfred's body as the nation panicked, he felt confused and terrified of what had just happened. The wave of emotions which had smashed into him was so great it made him nauseous.

"Mr. Jones!" - called a voice that Alfred could barely see out of his broken glasses. Several sets of shoes came his way, and he noticed a parametric behind them.

"Mr. Jones, can you hear me?" - asked the paramedic as calmly as he could, even though he looked as shaken as the rest of the people.

He was attempting to be as professional as possible, no one had foreseen this. Alfred moaned, he couldn't seem to speak, the words had vanished from his throat.

"He's losing a lot of blood. I need a transfusion over here! Check the girl!" - barked the paramedic as he worked swiftly.

Frantic hands padded down Alfred's body, all of them seemed to stop in the spots where it hurt the most and the stickiness of his own blood was. Every touch caused the pain to intencify. One by one people began to fade, first their voices and slowly their faces.

Alfred was plunging into darkness, perhaps this was the feeling of emptiness and serenity which Kiku was always talking about.

* * *

After a long helicopter ride, Arthur, Yao, Francis and Roderich had arrived in Boston. The city was in turmoil and Arthur could see the rubble in the streets. He closed his eyes in an attempt to erase it from his memory, it was as worse than the Revolution. Such fear, pain, and sadness, it was as though the entire city was weeping.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of loved ones attempting to get to the hospital only to be told that they were going to be rerouted. Thankfully since Roderich had asked for the car from the Consulate they received priority. Austrian flags flew on their staffs as the limo crawled through traffic. Arthur continuously wrung his hands in the car:

"Arthur he will be alright," Francis whispered as he placed a hand on Arthur's to make him stop. He had made his hands red and raw. The car pulled up to the hospital only for Arthur to practically bolt out of it.

"I'll be with them, I'll call you when I need you again," said Roderich swiftly as he bounded after the Frenchman who was now sprinting to keep up with the frantic Englishman.

The hospital looked like a war zone, men and women on gurneys, nurses rushing and doctors attempting to keep everything in order.

It was chaos, yet, somehow Arthur managed to navigate it. He was vaguely aware of the people following him, he stopped before the receptionist and asked:

"What room is Alfred F. Jones in?" - panting the Englishman, he didn't even realize he had been running.

Arthur's chest was tight as he looked at the nurses, he had to find Alfred, he had to see him. Part of him had acknowledged the fact that he would fall apart if anything had happened to the young American.

"Sir, visiting hours are over," stated a slender nurse, she had a large pointed nose which ironically reminded him of a bird beak.

"I'm aware, I'm his next of kin," Arthur said smoothly as he handed her his license, he wasn't sure if he was still on the sheet as the young man's next of kin, he had been for centuries. She huffed before reaching for the file and opening it:

"Sir, you are not listed" - she commented.

Arthur paled, he had to be, he was always listed:

"I have to be" - he stammered - "Arthur Kirkland, Representative of the United Kingdom."

The nurse looked down at the page and back at him:

"Sir, he doesn't have anyone listed as his next of kin."

Arthur's head dipped for a moment, no one was listed which made him wonder if Alfred didn't feel loved by anyone. A large warm hand gripped his shoulder, it made the Englishman jump, towering above him was the familiar sight of Erin.

"I'll take care of this, he is a relative of Alfred's, we didn't complete that part of the paperwork" - he fibbed before taking Arthur, and leading him down the hallway.

Erin was one of the few people Arthur had slipped into Alfred's security team with a background in MI6, not to spy just to ensure he was protected. Once they were far enough away he looked up at the bulky guard and said, "Thank you".

Erin shrugged as he walked, he was always noncommittal in conversations unless security of an individual was involved.

"He's pretty banged up, so don't lay on him quite yet. However, he did refuse a security team running with him," he commented. There was a pause as the shorter Englishman finally registered what Erin had just said.

"What?" - he barked.

Erin sighed as he approached the room which, Alfred was currently in.

"Yeah, he refused, I advised against it. However, I let him have his way for once," he explained.

Arthur could hear the edge of regret in the guard's voice, it was apparent he felt as though he had failed. Alfred must have been being difficult.

"It isn't your fault," said Arthur quietly as he stopped outside of the hospital room, "Tell the others I want to see him first".

Erin nodded before walking down the hallway, in truth Arthur wanted to see the damage before anyone else had a chance to. He pushed the door open after drawing a soothing deep breath to find Alfred sleeping.

The steady beep of the monitor echoed in his ears as he looked at the young man. His face was badly bruised, and he noticed his ribcage was wrapped. One of his hands had been thickly bandaged as well as the side of his head.

"Alfred," he whispered, his heart constricted as he walked over to his bedside.

It was great that the young man was alive, however, it was clear from his condition that he was in a great deal of pain. Arthur brushed away his tears with the back of his hand. An empty chair sat beside the bed, there was a blanket resting on it, which was approximately two shades lighter than the blue sky. Arthur gently picked it up and placed it on the chair on the other side of the room and promptly took a seat.

"Alfred," he whispered as he gently brushed his fingers over the young man's face, "Thank god you're safe".

He breathed before wrapping his hands around one of the American's rather large hands. The steady beep of the heart monitor soothed him, as he watched Alfred's chest rise and fall.

"Safe, in my arms, as you should be."


	5. Chapter 5: Safe

In this chapter there are two different markings for text Italics and Bold. Words in _Italics _are the speech which Alfred is writing, and those in **bold** are words in different languages. I want to thank my Beta for all her hard work. I know it's difficult to reformat this thing.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Safe**

"Alfred, love," called a familiar voice. It sent ripples through Alfred's mind, which seemed to be enveloped in darkness.

"How long has he been out?" asked that voice with a thick British accent threading through it.

Honestly, it sounded heavenly to his ears. He doubted it was Arthur, it wouldn't be, he was supposed to be heading back to London to attend Thatcher's funeral and deliver a speech.

"Since he arrived, sir," responded a stiff and unrecognizable voice.

"Why the hell wasn't I called!" the voice shouted.

It couldn't be Arthur, 'cause he would never use such a language like that with the doctor.

"He was rushed to surgery, massive internal bleeding, we only just found his contact information" - responded the doctor.

It puzzled Alfred, he could remember the people, who worked for him on the street, saying his name.

"You know who he was, don't give me that!" - roared the Englishman - "I should have been called!"

Alfred's body was still heavy, he simply wanted to reach out and touch the man who was coming to save him.

"I'm sorry sir, it's been a madhouse here," defended the doctor with a clipped tone, he had clearly been overworked.

"Then you need to learn how to run this **Krankenhaus (1)**, more efficiently," combated another voice, it was heavier than the Englishman's, it seemed out of place in this mess.

"We are doing the best we can!" - retorted the doctor - "It's not my fault that we weren't staffed for this!"

The chances of a German and an Englishman in the same room were a million to one; the fact was Alfred knew how both of them hated one another.

"Let's take this outside, we are stressing him, **mon amie (2)**," the third voice said calmly.

French, very clearly, French. He wanted to open his eyes, but he just couldn't get them to. The three voices vanished, yet he wasn't heard the creak of a chair and a pair of warm somewhat small hands wrap around his own. The scent of tea and peppermint was soothing; it was odd that this man smelt like Arthur.

It reminded Alfred of something Arthur did when he was a child with a fever, this kindness he had yearned for. Sweetness to him was lost after the Revolution War, when Arthur went cold and often turned away from him with a look of disdain.

Honestly, he thought it would be nice if those gentle hands belonged to the Englishman, he had heard Arthur talking to Francis. Yet, he had managed to convince himself it was a dream, since he hadn't heard from the man for so long. Perhaps those loving hands were just his imagination.

"Alfred, Love, please wake up soon," the angelic voice called again.

Of course, the Englishman would never call him something so personal. It sounded as though he was treasured, rather than a nescience which wasn't Arthur's style.

~~xXx~~

He slowly opened his eyes, the light was blinding and he was disturbed by the smell of antiseptic. Everything was a blur until his eyes finally focused, what seemed like ages was merely hours, resting his head on the bed with his hands wrapped around Alfred's delicate hand was a head of messing sandy blond hair... Alfred through his heart would stop, if the monitor hadn't reminded him that it was still beating.

Thick eyebrows were hidden under messy bangs, and his lips were parted. The Englishman had actually fallen asleep clutching his hand, it was as though he were worried Alfred were going to leave him. Oddly, Arthur didn't look like he was going to kill Alfred, there were lines on his face, a clue to the fact that he had been crying. His eyebrows were scrunched and his face was twisted in an expression in which he could only perceive as concern.

"Arthur?" asked Alfred slowly as he lifted his free hand to run his fingers through Arthur's hair.

His hair was soft yet slightly oily which, he hadn't expected until he took a closer look at the Englishman. His clothing was deeply wrinkled and disheveled. His tie was gone and his dress pants were deeply wrinkled. He was still dressed in black which, seemed to hurt Alfred more than anything because Arthur was always wearing warm earthy colors or a rich navy blue. To see him in solemn black made his chest constrict, he honestly hoped that Arthur wasn't dressed like this because of him.

"**Bonsoir, Amérique **(3). How's your head?" asked a familiar voice from the doorway, it was just above a whisper.

Yes, everything was still a blur but the voice was unmistakable, he reached over to the side and slipped on his spare pair of glasses. Clearly that Erin had brought them over.

Alfred's sky blue eyes fell on the figure in the doorway, standing there was Francis with a bouquet of white roses. For a moment, Alfred was confused, he honestly thought Francis only went for red ones.

"It hurts," he said after a moment, "But I'm alright dude. I'm a hero after all!"

Francis sighed and shook his head, his lips curled into an amused smile as he walked into the room with the blue vase of white roses in hand. Oddly the white roses seemed to suit him perfectly.

"You know he's asleep," commented Francis as he walked across the room and placed the vase on the side table.

His hair was pulled back in an elastic hair tie, and it was clear he hadn't trimmed his beard. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked rather ragged. At first it seemed like he had spent the night out, yet he didn't smell of liquor or girls. Instead he smelt of cigarettes, the French delegate had a habit of chain smoking when he was worried about something. He practically lived in the smoking zone when he was stressed.

"Yeah, I noticed," commented Alfred as he looked off to the side and noticed another blanket. "Could you pass me that?" asked Alfred as he pointed to the light blue blanket.

The Frenchman looked at the pointed blanket and looked back at him quizzically before picking it up and handing it to Alfred. He was about to question, when he watched something which warmed his heart.

Alfred draped the blue blanket which was several shades lighter than his eye color, over the sleeping Englishman. It covered the small man completely, and he adjusted it so Arthur's neck and head were free. A smile swept across Francis's lips as he watched them.

"Alfred, do you love Arthur?" - he asked softly, his voice was just above a whisper. There wasn't a hint of malice in it as he asked, clearly he wanted to know.

Alfred paused and looked at Francis, his eyes went wide for a moment, he should have known better than to try to hid it from the flirtatious delegate. After all he was a self proclaimed expert in love. Alfred's gaze fell to the head of blond hair resting on the bed, it was such a compromising position for the well guarded Englishman. He smiled gently before slipping his fingers into Arthur's hair

"I do," he responded. Before Francis could pursue the line of questioning further, Arthur stirred.

"Alfred?" he moaned as he slowly lifted his head.

"Hey Artie," replied the American.

Emerald's widened as he sat up quickly, worry seemed to have vanished from his face, it was replaced in an instant with an expression of shock and then relief. His bushy eyebrows fell as he smiled sweetly.

"Thank god," he breathed as he gave Alfred's hand, which he had held, a squeeze. Alfred looked slightly confused as the Englishman said this.

"Thank god you're awake," he whispered as he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

His hands were trembling a little and the expression he had mistaken for worry turned out to be one of fear. There was a subtle difference between the two from what Alfred knew when the Englishman expressed them.

There was silence in the room as Arthur clutched Alfred's hand.

"How's that girl?" - asked Alfred after a moment.

Arthur was about to say something when Yao slowly stepped into the room and looked at him.

"She's injured, however her running mate died in the explosion, her family in China is mourning her death, aru," he informed Alfred.

Obviously he had been waiting outside for him to wake.

"Running mate?" he asked slowly.

He had attempted to shield her on a whim. Only if he knew of her running mate he would have tried to find a way to shield them both. They were probably close friends and now one was forced to mourn for a soul lost in an event which could have taken both of their lives. There was an air of sadness in the room as Yao nodded.

"How old?" he asked after a moment.

"The young woman was 23; she was studying to be an accountant. Besides, President Xi's daughter however, is safe. Thankfully the attack wasn't at Harvard, that would have been far worse," Yao replied.

Alfred looked at Yao, there was something dangerous and dark in Alfred's eyes. He wasn't about to allow, September 11 had done enough damage, he wasn't going to stand for it.

"The President?" he asked after a moment.

The Chinese delegate was silent and he looked at the Frenchman.

"President Obama is yet to make a statement," Francis commented.

Alfred looked at his hands, he had to do something, he wasn't about to allow this to get out of control.

"How many points has my market fallen?" he asked.

The Frenchman paled and it was clear from that, that the damage was being done, especially when France blanched. Alfred felt his anger surge, people were panicking and he had been unconscious for far too long.

"I need Erin, tell him I want those guys tracked down, I can't risk another city to come under attack" - he stated.

Francis was frozen, he wasn't going to lose. "I need a pen and paper," said Alfred angrily, "If Obama isn't going to release a statement I will"

He felt Arthur squeeze his hand, the Englishman was concerned, the last time this occurred Alfred marched off to war.

Arthur watched the young man suit up and fight in the sand which was tainted with not only the blood of Alfred's troops but innocent people. Alfred didn't intend to march to battle, however he wasn't about to allow anyone to hurt his people.

"I'm going to make a comment" - he stated firmly.

Yao vanished from the room, he seemed to be off on a mission of his own. Yet, Alfred didn't care about that, what mattered now was putting pen to paper.

Arthur smiled a little and handed him a small notebook he usually carried with a fountain pen.

"Then use this" - he said encouragingly.

The notebook was old and clearly worn, the pages had yellowed and he could see Arthur's handwriting neatly on them, his speeches and thoughts.

"You don't mind?" - asked Alfred after a moment.

Arthur closed his emerald green eyes and shook his head:

"No I don't, I carry it for this reason," he stated.

The dark blue pen weight as much as much as Arthur's burden to protect his nation, there was this surge of power that Alfred felt as he uncapped the pen and looked at the spotless golden nib.

This was England's pen, he felt confident as he opened the journal to a clean page and scratched down the date. He drew a deep breath and wondered how Arthur would start. He smiled as he remembered the numerous speeches he had helped in writing for presidents, senators and heads of state. All of them were powerful but now he had to combine the force of F.D.R. with the elegance of Thomas Jefferson, the confidence of J. F. K. and the unity of Lincoln.

The pen met the page as the words which used to elude him, finally aligned in his head like stars on the sky. He didn't care if this speech was the greatest of all time, what mattered was that people felt confident again and safe.

The black ink ran smoothly out of the pen with each stroke and he found it easier than ever to fill a page with words.

He could feel Arthur's gaze, it was as though he were watching his son grow up before his eyes. That same tender gaze, filled with pride he had seen at the meeting that day.

Alfred finished the final word, and looked at Arthur.

"I'm going to read it, tell me what you think" - he said after a moment.

Arthur nodded and looked at Alfred.

"_Earlier today an attack occurred in Boston, which ripped the city apart. It costs six individuals their lives and injured many more, however, now isn't the time to lick our wounds. Now, we fight, for we can not allow fear to control us, we must stand up and face it. Stare it down and pursue those who wish for us to cower in fear, to prove that their values are right. We must stand firm and rise from the tragedy with a new mindset, not to push others away in fear but bind together. For it is only when we stand united that we can and are able to win. We will learn their motive and who is backing them, we are determined to find them and see that justice is delivered swiftly_"

Arthur stared at Alfred, it was now apparent who had been writing the better speeches.

"_We will not live in fear, we will not cower, we will not bow. Now we must pick up the pieces and rebuild, rethink and reinvent, not who we are but how we see the world_" - Alfred said sternly.

He certainly knew how to rally people, his selection of words had gotten better,

"_My condolences go out to those injured and had lost their lives. They will not be forgotten, they will not be brushed aside, we will see that their souls see justice. Now we stand tall, proud, and strong, for we will fight till the end and seek the truth even in the dark_" - he finished.

It was short and yet powerful, it summoned old feelings of nationalism and called for them to pull themselves up by their boot straps. He chuckled, it was very dynamic, very tough, and very Alfred.

"Why are you laughing?" - asked Alfred with a hint of irritation.

Arthur paused and looked at him; he hadn't realized he was chuckling.

"It's so very you, it's well done but very," he paused as he looked for the reference and smiled, "Hollywood".

Alfred looked slightly confused as he looked at the speech:

"Oh come on you and I both know those guys in Hollywood could kick my ass with a script. Thanks thought, it was nice to know you were listening" - he replied.

Arthur felt slightly hurt, he was always listening no matter how far away he was pushed he was listening to the young man. Kiku entered with Yao in tow and the pair began to chat about his recovery.

Arthur watched Alfred tenderly, he had always been listening, for a sign that his affection wasn't ignored. He knew he had messed up with the Revolution, it tore him to pieces to watch Alfred walk away only to suffer the Civil War later.

He could remember slipping into the youngsters' room at one in the morning and listen for deep soft breaths... just to make sure that the little boy was still alive, to think that Alfred didn't realize Arthur had always been listening hurt him.

Of course he was, he still loved him, he paused when he realized he hadn't told Alfred that. His head hung as he came to the realization that he would probably only be an older brother, someone who took care of him when he was little.

"Alfred, I'm going to run to the loue, I'll be back" - said Arthur smoothly.

The American turned to him and flashed a huge all American boy smile and replied: "Okay dude!"

Arthur nodded as he stood up and left the room, he needed air.

~~xXx~~

Francis was walking down the hallway with Matthew when he noticed something unusual, Arthur was leaving Alfred's room. His head tilted to the side as he watched the Englishman wander the hallway looking rather upset. Which made very little sense to the Frenchman, Alfred was alive, awake and safe. He should have been jumping for joy.

Francis walked closer to the room and noticed that Yao and Kiku were there. Matthew grinned as he walked into the room:

"Alfred!" he chirped, oddly Alfred heard the Canadian and smiled.

"Mattie!" he cried with joy as he motioned for the small Canadian to join him.

"Hey Alfred, how are you feeling?" asked Francis smoothly as he looked at the delegates around the young man.

A number of them were his friends, and now he understood why Arthur had left.

"Pretty good, for being blown up," he commented.

Francis nodded and watched as Alfred returned to talking to the other nations.

He sighed as he left the room and went looking for a sulking Englishman.

"If I were him, I would need a smoke," he commented as he snuck to the rooftop of the hospital.

Sure enough there Arthur was lighting a drag. The image was slightly heartbreaking, he was leaning on the railing and looking out at the sky listlessly, a drag between his lips as he looked out at the horizon. His blond hair swayed in the breeze and his shirt's deep creases gave away how long he had been there.

"I thought you quit," Francis said after a moment as he pulled out a pack of Mild Sevens and tapped one out of the carton.

Cigarettes were one of America's greatest exports, they were sold in nearly every nation and addicting as hell. Yet, when Arthur had heard that Alfred was looking to England for guidance in the nineties, he had locked a carton in his car glove box. He was certain it was still there until he noticed the old pack in his hands.

Arthur didn't answer he simply turned around to the Frenchman and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I was so worried, and yet," he sighed and looked at Francis, "he doesn't even notice".

He was loosing hope, it was frightening to see the man who used to fight him tooth and nail in this state.

"He does **mon amie**, he does" - stated Francis as he walked over and stood beside the Englishman.

He went for his lighter only to remember Matthew had stolen it.

"May I?" asked Francis as he pointed to the cigarette.

Arthur nodded and allowed Francis to use his own to light the Mild Seven in his lips.

"Thanks," he replied as he inhaled.

"You know, the Chinese market felt the fear in their market, Yao will be releasing a statement and I have already drafted a note," said Francis, he hoped that going through global affairs would bring Arthur to his feet.

"I drafted mine, it's in," he paused and realized who had his journal.

"Fuck" - he cursed as he looked at Francis, he was looking through his pockets like a madman - "My journal, Alfred has it! That twit had better not read it!" He shouted as he smashed out his cigarette.

Francis was confused for a moment and then he realize the journal he had been talking about, the one he knew Arthur had confessed to Alfred over one hundred times, and yet he couldn't say it. He watched the Englishman run only to meet Erin.

"He's with representatives of the United States now, he asked me to tell you" - said the bulky guard.

Arthur paused and looked at him:

"Oh" - he responded.

Francis knew it was bad for another delegate to barge into the room when they were with their own staff. Arthur slowly backed away and Erin looked at the Englishman, he seemed to sense his distress as well.

"Arthur, do you know why you weren't on the paperwork?" asked Erin slowly.

The Englishman looked up in confusion and responded: "No"

~~xXx~~

"Alfred, you are asking the impossible" - barked the head of the FBI.

Once again he was being difficult, he wasn't asking for the impossible he was well aware that they had those resources at their disposal, he had created them.

"Look, I know you have the resources, don't lie" - he stated flatly - "We need them caught, the longer they stay out there the more panicked people will be."

The man groaned and crossed his arms:

"Mr. Jones, we have to take action yes, but asking us to dedicate most of our resources to this is simply irrational."

Alfred felt as though he were going to tear out his hair. He moved and the journal fell to the floor, it landed with a rustle and his assistant knelt to pick it up.

"Sir, you dropped this," she said gently.

Alfred was confused for a moment until he noticed the initials on the cover in gold leaf. His fingers traced the inlay, AK. His thumb had been tucked in a page when his assistant handed him the open journal. He paused when he noticed a picture that had been sketched in ink.

Arthur was smiling and had his arms wrapped around Alfred, he could see the Englishman's tie and fingers wrapped around a book.

He could remember that day in the garden by the roses. It was a sweet smell, one that he loved so much he had a rose garden put in at the White House, which was maintained by Eleanor Roosevelt. His eyes glided to the line Arthur had told him, the one thing to remember no matter what.

"It isn't guns, knives or sabers which kill people, it's panic and fear. As soon as we allow those to grow rampant, all hopes of uniting and protecting a people are lost" - he recited, smiled and looked at them - "No, we are going to prevent chaos by moving swiftly so that panic doesn't tear us apart".

The head of the FBI glared before turning on his heel and storming out.

"Oh, I missed a piece," she commented.

Alfred looked at her as she picked up a photograph.

"Oh my, how handsome!" she gushed, "Who is that?"

He looked at her in confusion and held his hand out for the picture. She handed him the crinkled image, it had yellowed and faded a little. It must have been a treasure of Arthur's to be kept with him. He smiled, "I'll just slip it back"

His eyes floated down to the photo and he paused.

"This," he stammered, "Why does he still have this?"

Tears threatened to breach his eyes as he looked at the photo, it was of Arthur and America. They were standing side by side holding their flags, it had been taken the day they landed in Normandy and took back France. Alfred stared at the old bomber jacket, they were both smiling, it was one of the few photos of them together where they didn't look mad at one another.

"Sir?" asked his secretary in a panic.

Alfred wiped his tears away with the back of his hand as he turned to the page with the date sprawled across the top in that familiar script.

Arthur always had beautiful penmanship; it was something that Alfred knew he would never have. He didn't have the patience to sit there and work on each letter just to get it to look beautiful.

"_We have finally freed France, and are now working our way East. Hitler has wreaked havoc on Alsace and Lorraine, but we intend to free them from his grasp soon. Alfred did well, exceedingly well this time. He has grown into a fine man" _

Alfred smiled as he read the last part, Arthur clearly didn't mean for him to see this. He looked at the photo before continuing:

"_I was worried he wouldn't make it through Normandy's landing, I was petrified when he didn't meet us when he was supposed to. I honestly thought I lost him, I thought I lost him before I could tell him how much I loved him."_

Alfred froze, he began to wonder how long Arthur had been in love with him.

* * *

_**Translations:**_

(1) **Krankenhaus: **hospital. (Germany)

(2) **Mon amie: **my friend. (French)

(3) **Bonsoir, Amérique: **Hello, America. (French)


End file.
